


charnel

by climbingvines



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Background: Yeosang/Wooyoung, Discussions of Mental Illness/Anxiety, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Gaps In Someone's Memory, Ghosts, Haunting, Hongjoong & Yeosang's Gay Moms, Horror, Losing Time, M/M, Medical Jargon, Medical Procedures, Mystery, No Major Character Death, No dogs were harmed in the writing of this fic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paganism, Possession, Psychic Abilities, Psychological Horror, They're Medical Students Y'all, Thriller, Unsolved Murder, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24661399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/climbingvines/pseuds/climbingvines
Summary: Surgical Intern Kim Hongjoong, for the first time in his life, is living on his own. At twenty-six, this might seem like something that's been long over due... and Hongjoong couldn't agree more. He's managed to find a place close to work, family, and friends. Where he can finally have his dog, even. So what if his landlord, the mysterious Park Seonghwa, has forbidden him from ever going into the basement? He has a whole house all to himself!It's only after he starts having vivid hallucinations and finds himself inexplicably drawn to the locked basement door that he begins to worry.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 46
Kudos: 130





	1. jarring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you know, you know. ;)
> 
> There's about eight chapters of this pre-written and I dunno how many more to go. I've been watching a lot of Supernatural lately so maybe this is that. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'm really excited to share this with you guys. 
> 
> \- Vinnie

The house on Daesagwan-ro-8-gil in Seongbuk-gu was everything Hongjoong could possibly want in a first home. After six years of living first in a selection of spartan army barracks, then after discharge moving to a shoe box sized dorm, only to then later stake out his own corner of numerous crowded apartments filled with anxious medical students, it was nice to come home to a place that didn't reek of over cooked ramen and desperation.

The place had all the charm of a traditional style hanok with all the flair of a modern style villa and it was gorgeous. The whopping 5.5 million won he was paying in rent every month was well worth it. 

Recently remodeled, the house was all chrome and wood; a soothing mixture of nature and industry that reminded him of the mountainous city he grew up in, all topped off with a selection of wide, wide windows. Two floors, with the second story being a haphazardly added addition that should have felt out of place, but instead just added to the uniqueness of the house. The entire place had a quirky spread of touches that suited Hongjoong just fine, from the obnoxiously sunny yellow paint on the walls of the living room to the spiral staircase in the kitchen that lead up to the loft-like second floor. Two bedrooms downstairs, one upstairs, which he had promptly claimed as his. Of the two downstairs, one had been turned into his office and the other, a guest room. There was a fairly nice side yard, too, shaded by pagoda style overhang and housing a bevy of potted plants left behind by previous owners.

There was also a basement, but his landlord had forbidden him from entering it. It was even in the rental agreement.

The door to the basement was in the kitchen. It was probably one of the oldest things about the house. It looked thoroughly out of place amongst the modern lines and angles that made up the rest of the villa. Antique, a dark stain on the wood, and the iron fixtures that were the hinges and knob worn from use.

It was locked, and he hadn't been given a key.

"That's just ridiculous," Yeosang said, eyes narrowed in distrust. "What if there's a fire or something and that's your only way out?”

Sunrise Coffee Bar was the only place he trusted to provide his morning caffeine fix. The wood benches & art-adorned brick walls of the little corner shop already felt like a second home to him. He’d first stumbled upon it after a particularly rainy morning when he'd missed the bus and was forced to take shelter in its beckoning warmth.

Hongjoong laughed, "Why would I go in the basement if my house was on fire?"

"Smoke rises!" Yeosang said like that particular statement made any sense at all. Hongjoong started laughing again and Yeosang shoved his shoulder roughly. "Shut up. Besides, there's a door in the side yard that leads down there, right? I saw it when we were moving things in."

"Yeah, but it's locked, too. And the windows are blacked out."

"See? That's just creepy!"

"Yeosangie, it's his house. Seonghwa-ssi seems like a nice guy.” Hongjoong stirred his coffee, thinking of the man who technically owned his house. He was tall, taller than Hongjoong at least, but not too tall. He had a beautiful, sculpted face, kind eyes, and the most perfect smile- so perfect it was almost painful. He was polite and well spoken, too. Maybe Hongjoong thought he was sort of terrific, even though he barely knew the man. “He can do whatever he wants, I'm just glad he's letting me rent the place on my own. Everywhere else wanted me to have roommates to make sure I could 'keep up' with the rent."

"You're just saying that because you think he's hot."

Hongjoong blushed thinking of a sharp jaw, dark eyes, and even darker waves of hair. Grabbing his coffee, Hongjoong took a large gulp of the scalding liquid, sputtering around the burn of his tongue to cover his embarrassment.

"Yah! He's my landlord! That's like.. crushing on your boss or something!"

"That’s never stopped you before,” Yeosang smirked, “I still think he's a closet weirdo or something. How old did you say he was?"

"Twenty-seven, he's not that much older than me.

"Right! So obvious question here; what kind of twenty-seven year old owns a house like that?!"

Hongjoong snorted, gathering up his things from the table, shoving his phone into the pocket of his heavy winter jacket. January in Seoul was cold and wet, but it was nothing new to the native. 

"You're being ridiculous, Yeosang-ah." He said again.

Seoul National University Hospital was only a few blocks from the coffee shop, so their walk, while bitterly cold and filled with gusty, rain laced wind, wasn't really that long. Hands shoved inside gloves, shoved inside pockets. Faces shielded by masks and thick, woolen scarves, heads covered by knit hats, huddled together sharing a set of airpods.

Kang Yeosang had been his best friend since time out of mind. Their mothers had been friends in high school, got pregnant around same time, attended new agey birth classes together, were each other's labor coaches. Hongjoong and Yeosang were having play dates before either of them could even focus their eyes. They were like twins, joined at the hip, brothers from different mothers. Although they might as well have the same mom. Kang Junghee was just as much 'mom' to Hongjoong as Kim Misook was to Yeosang. A thrown open door in high school and a shout of 'Mom, I'm home!' was usually met with a chorus of two voices. Junghee and Misook, who were just as much of a package deal as Hongjoong and Yeosang. Misook and Junghee, who held each other up when Hongjoong's father died when he was three and again a few years later when Yeosang's father left them for a 'fresh start'. Junghee and Misook, who worked their fingers to the bone to put two boys through medical school, a joint effort on their part for 'their' sons.

One of the happiest moments in Hongjoong's life had been at their wedding, watching them stand up in front of all their new age friends in matching white sun dresses on the side of a beautiful mountain in one of Seoul’s many national parks, surrounded by nature, the people who loved them, and their love for each other.

Yeosang was his brother, his confidant, his truest friend. Cradle to grave. When Hongjoong came out in ninth grade Yeosang barely blinked and a week later was suspended for punching Lee Hwayoung in the face for calling Hongjoong a faggot. They shared a room as kids, enlisted at the same time, were dormmates in college, got their first apartment together, and applied to all the same residencies.

Which was probably why Yeosang was still pouting about Hongjoong wanting to get his own place now.

Seriously, the place Yeosang was renting was barely ten blocks from his house. The real problem was his new roommates. Residents who worked at the same hospital; Jeong Yunho, Choi Jongho, and Choi San. They weren’t necessarily bad roommates, they were just social butterflies, always having people over for drinks, to watch a drama, to have a light dinner. Whatever struck their fancy. 

And It wasn't like those were things that Hongjoong and Yeosang of them never did when they lived together, it was just that it was more Hongjoong's thing than Yeosang's. Hongjoong was the extrovert to Yeosang's introvert. Yeosang was the kind of guy who liked to hide in his room with a good book and a mug of tea. He had playlists made up entirely of nature sounds. And the sounds of nature did not contain a nightly soundtrack of boisterous wine drunk giggling.

Hongjoong didn't know how they did it, honestly. He, himself, was barely a month into his internship. All he did was run labs and write out orders. He worked every other night in fifteen hour shifts and he was dead tired 99% of the time. Yunho, San, and Jongho? They were already residents, having decided to put off their military enlistments until after they obtained their Ph.Ds. 

San was even some kind of genius. He spoke four languages, was in the top 1% in the nation in high school, and was currently top of the program in his residency group. His specialty was already declared to be General Surgery. He'd already done some solo surgeries. It was kind of shocking that the kid was younger than Hongjoong and spent most of his time reeking of tequila when he didn't smell like antiseptic, and still managed all of that. Yunho was thinking about declaring as a Cardiothoracic Surgeon, but honestly Hongjoong couldn't see it. Thoracic surgeons were intense and that guy never stopped  _ smiling.  _ Jongho, unsurprisingly, was going into Orthopedic Surgery. 

Yeosang didn't know what he wanted to do yet, but Hongjoong did. He had his heart set on Pediatric Surgery and he doubted anything was going to change his mind.

His current assignment to the morgue certainly wasn’t going to change anything. 

Becoming a Pathologist definitely wasn't on his to-do list. He'd seen enough cadavers to last him a lifetime in medical school. It was just his luck that his first set of rounds as an intern would be down in the bowels of the hospital instead of up where all the action was at. His job right now consisted of filling out paperwork and making sure no one ran off with the bodies. Occasionally, he got to assist with an autopsy or two, but it was nothing new to him. Find out why the person died, write it down, file it away. He wanted to  _ save  _ people. He wanted to make life better for little kids who'd been suffering for only the gods knew how long. He couldn't  _ wait _ for his next set of rounds to be assigned.

Together, he and Yeosang passed through the staff entrance of the hospital, scanned their ID badges, and managed to catch the doors of the elevator just before they closed.

As they hung their coats in their lockers on the surgical floor, Hongjoong sighed, glancing sullenly at Yeosang's name tag that currently read 'Intern - Orthopedic Surgery'.

"Oh, come on, are you still pouting about rounds? I have to look at  _ feet _ all day."

"Alive feet." Hongjoong muttered, slamming his locker shut before pulling his own lab coat on over his scrubs.

"See you for lunch?" Yeosang asked.

"Yeah, cafeteria or Sunrise?"

"The weather is supposed to stay shit, let's just rough it in the cafeteria. It's dubu chigae today, so it’ll probably be worth it."

\----

Nobody died that day.

Thank the gods, but it was super boring.

The pathologist was on-call, but he wasn't in residence. So it was just Hongjoong, silence, some specimen jars, and old Mrs. Hwang who'd passed away yesterday afternoon. The funeral home was being slow on coming to pick her up, which Hongjoong didn't think was very fair to her. He knew she was dead, but it still seemed rude to make her wait.

Sometimes he thought it was sad that death didn’t really phase him anymore. Well, he shouldn’t say  _ death _ didn't phase him, it was just that  _ dead people  _ didn't phase him. The way things were going he was getting kind of afraid that he was going to turn out like creepy Dr. Hahn, the pathologist who talked to his 'patients' about their day as he weighed their internal organs.

He checked his watch, 11:55pm. His shift was scheduled to end at midnight and if there hadn't been security cameras in the hall outside to tattle on him he might have considered escaping his basement prison for the employee lounge half an hour ago. He’d long since finished his filing and cleaning for the night. But, alas, there  _ were _ cameras and he wasn't about to let anyone catch him slacking off during his last half hour so early into his internship. Not that he wasn't slacking off anyway, he was just doing it responsibly at his desk, in a cold room lit with flickering fluorescent lighting that sort of made his eyes hurt as opposed to upstairs in the lounge where there was coffee.

In the distance, he heard a door slam.

Curious, he put his phone down to wait. It was probably Samuel coming to relieve him for the night shift, but after a few minutes he didn't hear anyone coming down the hall and he frowned.

He rose from his desk and walked to the door. He poked his head out the door, peered down the hall towards the elevator doors and then up the other way towards the staircase where he was certain the sound had come from.

There was no one.

He shook his head, laughing at himself. Someone just probably went down one flight of stairs too many, missing the door to the first floor, and then went right back up when they realized their mistake.

Hongjoong went back to his desk.

11:58

The scratching sound was so faint that at first Hongjoong thought he was imagining it. 

He'd always had trouble telling where sound came from. His mother told him that when he was young, he used to get really bad ear infections, and that it caused some damage to his ear drums. As an adult, an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist had confirmed that Hongjoong’s inner ear had some fairly substantial scarring. It wasn’t that he was deaf, it was just that if someone called his name in a crowded courtyard he'd more than likely do a complete three-sixty before he figured out who was trying to get his attention.

So when the sound seemed to be coming from the storage room behind him, Hongjoong thought for sure he must be mishearing things. He doubled back and peered down the hall towards the stairs again, brow furrowed in confusion.

A thump sounded behind him and he spun around, he was  _ sure  _ this time that the sound had come from the storage room.

Hongjoong stood there, rooted to the spot, the hair on the back of his neck raising in alarm. He was the only one down here. He'd been the only one down here  _ all night. _

Then the whispering started. 

Distorted, other worldly, not-quite-words that threaded through the room. Hongjoong felt like maybe he was going to throw up.

He was going  _ crazy. _

It was Midnight, the clock on the wall proclaimed.

His shift was officially over.

Hongjoong squared his shoulders and marched towards the storage room door before his nerves could fail him.

He wrapped his hand around the handle and yanked it open.

_ "Hongjoong!" _

He screamed and fell back on his ass. 

San collapsed on the floor of the small room, his cackling laughter echoing off the walls.

"Hyung, you should see your face!!" He gasped out.

"Holy shit, San,  _ fuck you _ ! How did you even get in there?" Hongjoong groaned, laying back on the cool tiles, covering his face with his hands as he tried to control his racing heart.

"Resident privilege, Joongie. One of the attendings told me about this little hidden hallway the other day. It connects the storage closet at the end of the hall by the stairs with this one. It's left over from before they remodeled down here. They thought it would make a good storage space or something, so they kept it. It's got all the Christmas decorations and shit in it." San bounded to his feet. 

Hongjoong pushed himself up from the floor to follow. Smugly, San opened a narrow door in the back corner of the storage closet. One shrouded in shadows that Hongjoong had somehow managed to overlook for the last four weeks.

Hongjoong shook his head, half in frustration, half in wonder, 

"How were you making those noises, you creep?"

San shook his phone, 

"App." He snickered.

"I should kill you." Hongjoong groaned, rubbing his hands over his bruised tailbone.

"You should, but you won't. I came down here to tell you we ordered chicken." San grinned.

"Chicken?" Hongjoong said warily.

Well, maybe he wasn't  _ that _ mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me!  
> twitter:[@VinnieKpop❤︎](https://twitter.com/vinniekpop)
> 
> CuriousCat:[@climbingvines❤︎](https://curiouscat.qa/climbingvines)


	2. nightmare

The worst thing about having chicken with his friends at midnight... 

Was that the last bus stopped running at just a little after 1:00am, which left Hongjoong to walk the ten or so blocks from Yeosang’s duplex near the hospital campus to the house. He’d considered ordering a car, but his rent had flashed before his eyes and he’d decided he could really do with some late night cardio. Luckily, the main drag leading away from the university consisted of several streets that stayed fairly busy at all hours, so his walk home was nothing if not well lit.

Even with the generous speckling of street lights, neon flashing from bar windows, and LED advertisements flashing overhead, walking by himself at night wasn’t something Hongjoong had enjoyed since middle school. Every pedestrian who came up behind him too fast or every car that seemed to slow down too suddenly felt like a potential threat to him. If there was one thing Hongjoong had learned during his time on this earth, it was that being tiny and being 'other' while out in public after the sun went down, was never a good combination. And Hongjoong was plenty of both. His petite frame, androgyny, and later, his sexual orientation had served to make him a target for the stupid and oafish for most of his teenage years. As an adult, he coped with ignorance much better than he had when he was seventeen and had something to prove to the world, but that didn’t stop him from tensing, fingers tight around the strap of his bag and ready to swing, whenever someone on the street shouted unexpectedly.

He heaved a big sigh of relief when he finally turned off the avenue and onto his own quiet side street. He was seriously beginning to consider investing in a bike. After all, it was Seoul. Owning a bike was practically a requirement to live here. It would save him a ton on bus fare, too. 

Hongjoong turned the corner and stumbled to an abrupt stop. 

There was a light on in his kitchen.

He didn't  _ remember _ leaving a light on in his kitchen. In fact, he was certain that he  _ hadn't _ left a light on in his kitchen. He couldn't afford to be leaving lights on when he was away, his bank account practically howled at the thought. 

Hongjoong stood in front of the house for quite some time, mentally chiding himself for being such a baby. It was negative seven outside for goodness sake! A light drizzle of rain began to fall. Hongjoong frowned up at the sky, made steely and grey even so late at night by the light pollution of the city. If anyone were to look out their window right now they’d see him standing outside his front gate, staring at his own house like a ghoul in low budget thriller. So he’d left a light on, big deal? His brain must really be fried if this was what was making him stand out in the cold, jeans slowly becoming colder and wetter where they dragged against his thighs, but top half toasty and dry inside his padded jacket. He laughed at himself and decided he'd better go inside... just as a long, impossibly tall shadow passed over the brightly lit window.

His heart seized,  _ someone was in his house _ !

Hongjoong was five seconds away from calling 112, glove caught between his teeth, quickly freezing fingers fumbling over the slick surface of his phone, when the shadow materialized into a face.

It was Park Seonghwa, his landlord.

What the hell was his landlord doing at his house at almost two o'clock in the morning? 

Hongjoong pushed open the front gate, climbed the front steps, and turned the knob on the door, surprised to find it still locked. Seonghwa must have come in through the back door.

Hongjoong fitted his key in the lock and stepped into the foyer.

"Mr. Park?" He called out, sitting his bag down by the door. He hung his coat on the rack, stuffing his gloves into the pocket so he wouldn't lose them. "Hello?"

"Oh, Hongjoong-ssi!" Seonghwa stepped out of the kitchen, obviously surprised to see him. "I thought you were at work." His eyes darted nervously between the kitchen and Hongjoong.

"I was.." Hongjoong said slowly, "My shift ended at midnight. I went out to eat with some friends." He sniffed, noting an acrid stench in the air. He stepped around Seonghwa and ventured into the kitchen. "What's that smell?"

Was Seonghwa cooking something?..

"Oh, uh, that's actually why I'm here. The, uhm, gas company called me and said there might be a leak? I came over to check it out." 

Hongjoong stared at him, incredulous. "...okay?"

His eyes travelled around the room, taking in the slight haze to the air. It reminded him of when his mom used to take him to the shrines for special holidays and they’d light sticks of incense together, the accumulated smoke of other people’s prayers lingering in the air in a sort of hazy miasma, making some shape just beyond his field of vision blur just a little at the edges. A large black leather bag sat on Hongjoong’s sleek granite countertops, and, curiously, the basement door stood slightly ajar.

As soon as Hongjoong's eyes seemed to even touch upon the door, Seonghwa's hand was there, large palm shoving it closed with a snap. He produced a strange metal key from his pocket and locked it tight. Seonghwa turned, fixing Hongjoong with his dark gaze and Hongjoong felt like his next, haze filled breath caught somewhere deep in his chest. The smile Seonghwa aimed at him was maybe a bit anxious, a bit brittle around the edges, but that did nothing to hide its beauty. Perfect teeth and deep lines that appeared on either side of his mouth.

This wasn’t the first time since meeting Seonghwa that Hongjoong had found himself dazzled by the other man’s smile, landlord or not, so maybe he wasn’t quite as embarrassed as he should have been to realize that Seonghwa was talking, but he hadn't heard a single word.

"Huh?"

Seonghwa shot him with a peculiar look, eyebrows cocked in something like exasperation,

"I  _ said,  _ I took care of the leak, Dr. Kim. It's safe to stay in the house.” He inclined his head in a small, polite bow, “You have my number. Please let me know if you need anything else."

Hongjoong nodded. He watched as Seonghwa snatched the leather bag off the counter and slinked out the back door. Hongjoong shook himself out of whatever spell Seonghwa’s smile had cast on him and stepped closer to the kitchen window. He twitched the impractically sheer curtain aside to track his landlord’s progress across the narrow strip of grass that served as the sideyard and out the gate into the alley.

His brain whirred in protest inside his skull and maybe that lingering acrid stench was just his brain overheating, sending smoke out from his ear like an angry cartoon character. 

Shaking his head, he locked the backdoor and went to bed. 

\---

"He's lying." Yeosang said, glaring at Hongjoong darkly over the rim of his coffee cup.

"I guess?” Hongjoong shrugged. It seemed pretty obvious that Seonghwa was lying, he didn’t need Yeosang going all over protective brother mode on Hongjoong to figure that much out. “I don’t see what he would lie, but I just can’t wrap my head around it. Like, why the hell would the gas company call him as opposed to, say, I don't know,  _ the fire department? _ "

"If there was a gas leak why didn’t he try to call and warn you?” Yeosang dumped an additional sugar packet into his cup. He always claimed he liked it near black but every cup ended up a light shade of beige by the time he finished ‘tweaking’ it. “And if there wasn’t really a gas leak, what the hell was he doing at your house at two o'clock in the morning? Especially, when he thought you were supposed to be at work?"

Hongjoong shrugged again.

"I have no idea. He was up to something, though. I definitely smelled something weird and the basement door was open." Hongjoong sighed, his brain trying to reconcile his landlord's suspicious behavior with memories of dark eyes and perfect teeth. 

Yeosang barked out a laugh.

"Oh damn, you look so disappointed." He snickered "The guy probably has bodies stashed in your basement and you're  _ still _ crushing on him!"

Hongjoong groaned, covering his face with his hands.

" _ Yeosang,  _ shut up. He’s like… ridiculously attractive.” He lamented. “You should have seen him last night. Gods, he's such a sharp dresser. That sweater he was wearing was just the right shade of blue, and his boots were killer, I bet they were super expensive, and those  _ jeans, Yeosangie you should have seen the kinds of things those jeans did for his ass!" _

"Hongjoong! Potential.Drug.Lord." Yeosang grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him gently to accent each word, "Black.Market.Arms.Dealer."

"Shut up, shut up!" Hongjoong laughed, smacking him away. "I get it."

"Maybe you should start looking for a new place? You could always crash with me until you find something."

Hongjoong shook his head furiously, 

"Gods, no. No way!" He checked his watch, their lunch hour was almost over and they had an advanced skills lab that afternoon, so getting back to the hospital with enough time to change and claim a good work station was a must. He glanced back up and saw the look on Yeosang's face, a pouty mixture of hurt and worry.

"Aw, Yeosang-ah, I didn't mean it like that. I just like having my own space, that's all. It would suck to have to go back to sharing space with four other guys." 

"At least we won't murder you in your sleep!"

"He's not going to  _ murder _ me! He's probably a SNSD fanboy or something. He keeps all his photocards down there in an airtight chamber to keep the germs out."

Yeosang snapped his fingers, "I got it!" He grabbed his coat off the back of his chair, "I bet you he's growing weed."

"What?" Hongjoong laughed, pulling on his own coat.

"I'm serious!” Yeosang said, holding the door open for Hongjoong. The cheerful bell above the door announced their departure from Sunrise and Hongjoong turned to give a friendly farewell wave to Mingi, his favorite barista. “Hyung, it makes so much sense! You know how those guys are, they get super into botany and set up crazy complex systems to optimize their growing capacity. He's probably got a full irrigation system down there. They're all, like, geniuses, too. Socially awkward as fuck." He was on a roll, hands waving around excitedly as he talked, "That's probably why he has so much money, too. I bet you he's been growing and selling forever. That's why he's all paranoid and secretive.  _ Joong _ , the smell was probably fertilizer or something!" 

Hongjoong followed Yeosang down the sidewalk back towards the hospital, listening as his voice grew more and more excited.

"First you try to convince me he's a serial killer and now suddenly he's a harmless plant geek?"

"I wouldn’t say harmless considering our country’s frankly appalling outlook on recreational drug use, but Joongie, you're acting like you  _ want _ to be murdered horribly. Aren't potheads generally better boyfriend material than axe murderers?"

Hongjoong shoved Yeosang off the sidewalk and snickered when he stepped in a dirty gutter puddle, “Drug dealer boyfriend trumps axe murderer boyfriend, got it. Thank you so much for the life lesson, Yeosangie, how could I ever live without you?”

\---

Hour later, Hongjoong sat at his desk. There was an entire file's worth of paperwork spread out before him waiting patiently to be filled out.

The skills lab had been interesting, but he was glad it was over. Three hours spent performing complex sutures was about two hours too many. Luckily, his sutures had been good enough to earn him a chance to scrub in on Dr. Ling's next surgery; one of only three interns to earn the opportunity. At this stage in his internship he'd only be observing, but she'd said his sutures had been even and tight, and that his speed was really commendable. She said he had good hands, a very high compliment in the world of surgery.

Paperwork aside, he couldn't wait for his shift to be over. The morgue had never seemed so dull.

The silence around him was all consuming, to the point that the hum of electricity from the refrigerated drawers and the scratch of his pin on paper was almost too loud to bear.

Behind him, a thump sounded. 

Hongjoong froze in his seat, his heart making a temporary home in his throat, before it broke free in a chuckle. 

"I'm not gonna fall for that twice, San!" He called out.

He shoved his chair back and strode towards the storage room door. He wrapped his hand around the handle, yanking the door open to find... nothing.

Cautiously, he stepped inside. He peered around shelves and peeked behind filing cabinets. He opened the door hidden away in the back corner of the room and gazed down the short, dimly lit hallway, but no one was there either. 

Frowning, Hongjoong closed the door and stepped back into the main room.

The thump sounded again, followed by a dull rattle of metal on metal.

Icy fear rolled down Hongjoong's spine as he whirled towards the wall of refrigerated drawers. 

_ It couldn't be... _

A weak voice called out, muffled by sheets of steel,

"Hello? Is anyone out there? I'm scared!"

Hongjoong's heart ground to a stop inside his chest.

_ No, no, no, no! _

He'd only met her once. While she was alive, that is. It had been during his post-op rounds with one of his instructors early the morning before she died, but the voice was undeniably that of Mrs. Hwang. 

The same Mrs. Hwang that the coroner had come to collect yesterday morning- had come to collect her  _ dead body _ and take it to the  _ funeral home _ -

"Please!” Her voice sounded plaintive and weak, “Can anyone hear me? I need help!" 

Slowly, as if they had a mind of their own, his feet began to move towards the drawers. 

Hongjoong's heart had kicked back to life and was now racing so quickly it felt like his whole chest was shaking. Each breath that punched out of his seizing lungs trembled. He was going to pass out any second now. Panic swelled up in his throat, choking him. His hands jerked and stuttered before him as they rose, his fingers reached out to brush the cold metal surface...

He opened his eyes to find himself face to face with his basement door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me!  
> twitter:[@VinnieKpop❤︎](https://twitter.com/vinniekpop)
> 
> CuriousCat:[@climbingvines❤︎](https://curiouscat.qa/climbingvines)


	3. disquieting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Are we not enjoying this fic? :( I keep seeing the views go up but not a lot of kudos or comments :/ I'm having a lot of fun trying to be spoopy but if it's not working for y'all just let me know, I guess! Anyway, everyone please enjoy the official introduction of the Hongjoong & Yeosang's Gay Moms tag, lol. 
> 
> \- Vinnie

Hongjoong stood, frozen, fingers outstretched just inches from the worn wood of his basement door.

He was at home, in his house, standing in his kitchen.

_When did he go home?_

He couldn't remember.

He couldn't remember anything after the skills lab and filling out that damn paperwork.

He looked down at himself and realized he was in his pajamas.

He turned, throwing his eyes around the kitchen. Plates drying in the sink, a cup of tea on the counter, still warm with thin tendrils of steam rising above the mug.

Music floated down the stairs from his bedroom. Hongjoong reached up and touched his hair, still damp from a shower he didn't recall taking.

He took a forceful step away from the door, backing away until his calves hit the chilled metal of the bottom most step of the spiral staircase behind him, then he whirled and scrambled up them, practically on all fours. His whole spine shuddered with that creepy feeling people had when they were a kid and had to turn off a light, then turn their back on a dark room. The sensation of being chased was alive inside his gut, except ten times more wild and sinister than he'd ever remembered it being when he was fifteen and too tough to admit that he was still kinda afraid of the dark.

Once upstairs he threw the trapdoor over the top of the stairs and slid the lock into place. He stood there for a moment, staring at it, chest heaving. He half expected Mrs. Hwang to start banging on the other side any second now.

When that didn't happen he started searching for his phone.

It was charging on his dresser, right where he put it every night before he went to bed. There was even his usual stick of incense burning in its tray.

Everything was exactly how it should be, expect for the fact that he couldn't remember doing any of it.

Hongjoong snatched his phone off the charger and called Yeosang.

"Hyung? What’s up?" Yeosang answered after only a few rings.

"Sang-ah, where are you?"

"I'm at work. I'm on rounds tonight but all I've been doing is running scut. Why?"

"Did..." He took a shaky breath, "Did you happen to see me leave after my shift tonight? Did I seem... alright to you?"

"Uh, yeah, I saw you. I tried to say 'hi' but I guess you didn't hear me. I called after you but it's not a big deal. Don't worry about it, Joong-ah, we all have those days."

"I didn't hear you? Are you sure?" Hongjoong wracked his brain, trying to remember _any_ of this. 

"What do you mean 'am I sure’? Did you hear me or not?" Yeosang snickered.

"Yeosang, listen, you're going to think I'm crazy.. but I don't _remember_. I don't remember clocking out or getting my things or the bus ride home. I don't remember eating dinner or taking a shower or making tea."

Yeosang's voice was suddenly much more serious,

"What do you mean you don't remember?"

"I mean, I just- I don't know! I suddenly _woke up_ and I was standing in the middle of my kitchen. I have no recollection of how I got there or what I was even doing before that."

"What do you mean, you _woke up?"_

Hongjoong sighed in frustration, shoving his fingers through still damp hair which only served to unnerve him further.

"I was having a nightmare and I literally woke up."

"So what, you were sleepwalking?"

"I guess? I don't know, Sang-ah."

Yeosang let out a rush of air that sounded tinny over the speaker of Hongjoong cell phone. Much to Hongjoong's surprise when Yeosang spoke next he actually sounded a bit relieved.

"Joongie, don't you remember when we were kids? You used to sleepwalk all the time. Mom took you to see that therapist and they said it was stress? You used to have those awful nightmares, too, about some kind of monster you swore would come and stand over your bed. They put you on a benzodiazepine for a while and then weaned you off when you started being able to control your anxiety on your own again."

Hongjoong shook his head before he remembered that Yeosang couldn't exactly see him,

"That sounds familiar, but I don't really remember it."

"Hyung, I'm not surprised. Those meds are good for short term cases but they can really mess you up. I'd be shocked if you remembered anything beyond a fuzzy recollection. Anyway, you're a surgical intern. That's a stressful job. It's probably starting to mess with your anxiety again. Maybe you should go see the hospital psychologist?"

"Anxiety." Hongjoong mumbled, "Yeah, maybe I should go see a shrink." He chuckled weakly, trying to sound anywhere near as relieved as Yeosang apparently was.

The thing was... if it was anxiety… how did he make it through his enlistment and six years of medical school without it rearing its ugly head before this?

He'd been way more than anxious, then. There were a couple of times in school where he was so stressed he'd considered quitting and told himself a lifetime as the manager of the local 7-11 was a more than legitimate career choice.

No, he was being ridiculous. Ridiculous and in desperate need of a professional to talk to.

"Thanks, Yeonsangie. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

"Sure. Call me if you need me. Love you."

"Love you, too."

\---

Two weeks and three sessions later he left Dr. Kwon's office with a diagnosis of Generalized Anxiety Disorder, a treatment plan that consisted of cognitive behavioral therapy, and a prescription for paroxetine. She had offered him diazepam but he remembered what Yeosang had said about how the benzodiazepines had affected him as a kid, so he declined the offer.

Now, he stood in front of his bathroom sink eyeing the bottle of tiny blue pills in his hand. Did he really need them? He hadn't had an 'episode' since he’d lost four hours of his night to the fog inside his head.

Dr. Kwon had worked her magic and gotten him pulled from his morgue rounds, but Hongjoong still felt awkward about it. He was a _doctor_ , damn it. He should be able to do the job assigned to him regardless of his _stress_ or _anxiety_ or whatever. To make matters worse, now his instructors were treating him like he was made of glass. They spoke softly to him and corrected him gently. He was never going to learn anything like this.

He hated this.

Hongjoong sat the bottle of pills on the shelf of his medicine cabinet and left it there, unopened.

\---

Hongjoong was in the restroom at Sunrise. Yeosang and Wooyoung, the cute nurse his brother had recently set his heart on sweeping off his feet, sat at their usual table waiting for Hongjoong to come back so they could leave, but Hongjoong felt like shit.

He hadn't been sleeping well.

His nights were restless, he spent all night tossing and turning. He woke up feeling like someone was standing over his bed, but when he threw an arm out and turned on the light, no one was there.

His new rounds were in the Emergency Room. How that was supposed to be a less high pressure situation than the morgue, he'd never understand. The morgue was supposedly a _trigger_ for him _,_ what with being surrounded by dead people and a general lack of hope. Now, he spent his time comforting crying mothers and taking teething babies' temperature and helping elderly people in and out of their wheelchairs.

Today, he'd managed to make it half-way through his pomegranate salad before he'd broken out in a cold sweat and excused himself to the restroom.

Hongjoong slumped over the sink, splashing cool water on his face in an attempt to reorient himself.

_"It wants out.."_

Hongjoong jerked in surprise, banging his knee on the sink pedestal. The voice had sounded like someone had whispered directly in his ear. He turned quickly to the side, but there was no one there.

He turned back towards the mirror just in time to see a hand print, like someone had leaned forward, bracing themselves against the glass and the residual heat from their skin had fogged up the glass, slowly fading from sight.

He stumbled backwards and out the door.

"I need to go home." He muttered as he rushed past his friends. The bell above the door rang shrilly as he stumbled out in the cold, shoving his arms into his coat as he went.

"Hongjoong!" Yeosang called after him, "You forgot your bag!"

Wooyoung stared after Hongjoong, eyebrows raised.

"What's up with him?"

Yeosang frowned, "I have no idea.."

\---

Hongjoong burst through his front door and stumbled down the hall into the kitchen. He headed for the stairs, but every step towards them also brought him closer to the basement door. It was like the closer he got to the door, the more his head pounded. He flung himself up the stairs, slamming and locking the trapdoor behind him. He wrenched open the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and shook a pill out into his palm. Dr. Kwon had said it would take four to six weeks for the pills to take full effect, and Hongjoong had already wasted two. He choked the pill down and slumped against the wall behind him.

Was this really anxiety? He was _hallucinating_ . He'd have to bring this up at his next session. They'd put him on antipsychotics, they'd take away his license to practice medicine until he was _better._

What if he didn't get better?

He heard a door open downstairs and water running in the kitchen sink.

His hands shook as he stood from his place on the floor and creeped to the trapdoor. Straining his ears, he caught the distinct sounds of shuffling feet, very human and very real.

"Hongjoong?"

His shoulders relaxed, and he lifted the trapdoor to peer down at Yeosang standing at the bottom of the stairs with his forgotten bag over his shoulder and a kettle of water for tea already on the stove.

He slipped down the stairs and took the bag from Yeosang quietly, avoiding his brother’s eyes. He sat it in the hall under his coat rack where it belonged.

"Thanks." He mumbled, sinking down to sit at the island. He rested his pounding head on the cool granite and sighed. 

"Are you alright, hyung? You look like death." Yeosang frowned, placing an equally cool hand on Hongjoong’s forehead like he wasn’t a doctor and instead was a middle aged babysitter.

"I think I'm coming down with something. Hazard of working in the E.R." Hongjoong shrugged, smiling at Yeosang weakly.

"You're a shitty liar." Yeosang's brows were drawn together so tightly they were practically conjoined. "Talk to me, hyung."

He couldn't. No way on Earth was he telling Yeosang he was hearing voices, seeing shit in bathroom mirrors.

He'd tell their boss.

He'd tell their _moms_.

"I swear, Sang-ah. I'm fine. I'm just going to take a nap, alright? Tomorrow’s my day off, anyway. Mom and Eomma are driving up to bring me Byeol. I'll feel better once I see his face."

\---

Hongjoong stood in the foyer, peering out at the street through the screen door. It was the first week of March, and surprisingly warm. No rain, dappled sunlight and a gentle breeze that smelled distinctly of spring. It was beautiful. Nothing compared to the grey chill of yesterday. If he didn’t think about it, he could almost pretend that yesterday never happened. He’d still taken one of the little blue pills as soon as he’d finished brushing his teeth this morning, though. 

A violently yellow Kia Niro pulled into his driveway and a door swung open. A flurry of paws and fur and slobbery teeth scrambled out of the interior and straight for his front door. He swung it open just in time to prevent a Samoyed sized hole from forming in the screen.

"Byeol, hey buddy!" He plopped down on the floor and was immediately treated to a lap full of excited dog. He kissed every inch of his face and Byeol returned the favor.

"Are you sure you're up for this? You're so busy and Hwan is going to miss him like crazy." Hongjoong stood up to hug his mother, tucking his chin over the top of her head just to remind her that he was still taller than her.

"I'm sure, Eomma. I’ve already found a great doggie daycare and everything. And there’s even a college girl a few houses down that’s agreed to walk him for me if I get called in suddenly. We’re going to be fine."

Misook frowned,

"You're giving strangers a key to your house? Do you want to be robbed blind?"

Junghee walked up behind her, dog bed and food in hand.

"Joongie’ll be fine, jagi. He's a big boy." She followed them inside and set about arranging the bed in the corner of the living room in a nice patch of sunlight. "So, where is my Yeosang? Too good for his own mother now that he's a fancy important doctor?"

Hongjoong laughed and hugged her, too.

"Mom, you know he loves you. He'll be here in an hour or so, he has to work until three."

"Knock knock!” A voice called from the open door, “Anyone home?”

Three heads turned towards the voice, surprised. 

When a familiar figure poked his head around the corner, Hongjoong couldn't help the way he instantly brightened.

"Seonghwa-ssi, hey! Eomma, Mom, this is my landlord Park Seonghwa." He rushed to introduce them, "Seonghwa this is my mother, Kim Misook, and my-uh-Yeosang's mother, Kang Junghee."

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Kim, Ms. Kang." He bowed politely and the women tittered.

"Oh my, no, call me Junghee. This is Misook. Ignore our son, he's too much." Junghee tittered, flapping a hand as if she could physically fight the formal addresses being sent her way.

Meanwhile, Misook elbowed her son in the ribs, whispering,

"So _polite._ And you didn't tell me how handsome he was!"

Hongjoong blushed,

"Why would I mention that?" He mumbled. The slight quirk to the corner of Seonghwa’s lips only served to remind him that maybe he should have first _denied_ that he thought Seonghwa was handsome instead of questioning why he would bring it up in polite conversation with his mothers like it was an indisputable fact.

"Sorry to interrupt,” Seonghwa bowed again, “I just thought I'd stop by and see if you needed anything. It's been awhile since I heard from you, Dr. Kim-" Junghee and Misook tittered again, "And I thought I'd make sure everything was in good repair. Nothing... strange you might need me to have a look at or anything?"

Hongjoong frowned,

"Strange? Um, no. Not really? I'm not quite sure what you mean by strange..."

 _Bang_!

A thud sounded from upstairs, right above their heads, about where Hongjoong's closet would be.

"What was that?" Misook asked, "Did you get a cat?"

Hongjoong stood, eyes trained on the ceiling.

"No."

"Ah, that's probably just the furnace. It’s old. Knocks sometimes, you know? The ducts heat up and _pop_." Seonghwa said quickly, "I'll just go down to the basement and look at it."

He hurried off into the kitchen and Hongjoong frowned after him. He turned his attention back to his parents,

"So... pizza?" He smiled cheekily.

"Pizza!" They scolded, "No, we're cooking you a _real_ dinner. Now show us the stove, we've got work to do."

Junghee went back out to the car for the groceries they brought with them while Hongjoong showed his mother around his kitchen. He deliberately kept his back turned to the basement door.

Just as they were setting some rice to fry, he heard the front door open and close again.

Yeosang stepped into the kitchen and sniffed the air appreciatively.

"It already smells good." He kissed his mother on the cheek before hugging Misook.

"Yeosang-ah, my son, look at my smart doctor." Junghee cooed, smoothing back his hair. Yeosang made a face but otherwise accepted her babying, his ear tinged a faint pink.

Before long, there was a spread on the table fit to feed ten people, let alone four. Kimchi fried rice, plates of meat, and more side dishes then would ever be necessary.

Footsteps clomped up the stairs and Seonghwa stepped out into the kitchen, face grim. He shut the door firmly behind him and locked it, placing the heavy iron key back into his coat pocket, zipping it shut like he thought it was going to sprout legs and walk away.

"Seonghwa-ssi, would you like to eat with us? There's more than enough!" Misook asked, already guiding the tall man to a chair at the table, her hands pulling his coat from his shoulders before he could even protest. She handed it to Junghee who disappeared into the hall to hang it up.

"Ahjumma, I couldn't. This is a family meal." Seonghwa stuttered, blushing. Hongjoong smirked a bit, seeing him ruffled by his mother's pushiness. That is, until Misook pushed him into the chair right next to Hongjoong’s.

" _Ahjumma!”_ Misook snickered, “Listen to him, Junghee. Call me Misook. I insist. When was the last time you had a proper meal with proper food?"

“Omma!" Hongjoong groaned, embarrassed, "You don't know anything about him. Why do you just assume no one eats properly?"

"I don’t need to know anything about him to see that he's too skinny!"

Yeosang, for his part, had been strangely quiet since Seonghwa's appearance. That didn't stop him from glaring daggers at him, though.

They all ate together, quietly at first, as Junghee and Misook talked about their flower shop and remodeling their front room. Hongjoong snuck Byeol scraps of meat under the table when his mother wasn't looking. Before long, they managed to drag the boys into their conversation,

"How have you been feeling, Hongjoong?" Yeosang asked around chopsticks full of rice.

"Oh, Hongjoongie, were you feeling poorly?" His mother cooed, placing a warm palm against his forehead. Maybe that’s where Yeosang picked the gesture up from. 

"I'm _fine._ " He said, glaring at his brother across the table. "I just haven't been sleeping well. Nightmares. I saw a doctor and they gave me some sleeping pills. I'm fine." He repeated for emphasis.

"Nightmares?" Seonghwa asked, the word coming out slow and unsure, "What kind of nightmares?"

Hongjoong turned his head to stare at him. Other than the initial rental interview and tour of the house, their conversations had been limited to one weird 2:00am kitchen freak out and this one awkward Mother-induced dinner. Why did he care about Hongjoong’s nightmares?

"It's not a big deal. I don't even remember what they're about." Hongjoong lied. His eyes involuntarily flickered towards the basement door that for some reason suddenly felt like it was looming behind him; like a living, breathing thing.

Seonghwa frowned, following his eyes.

Hongjoong could have sworn he saw Seonghwa pale visibly.

When dinner was over Seonghwa pulled him to the side.

"You haven't gone into the basement have you?" He asked, voice low and urgent,

"No? You told me not to. Why would I?"

Seonghwa's impossibly dark eyes held Hongjoong’s as he nodded and said,

"Good. I promise, I have a good reason. Just... don't go down there, okay? No matter what you think you hear."

"What does that mean? 'No matter what I think I hear'?"

Seonghwa took a step back, obviously trying to make a break for the back door just like last time, but in a moment of pure daring and also maybe a bit of stress induced insanity, Hongjoong quickly reached out and caught Seonghwa’s wrist, preventing him from making his escape.

" _Wait_." Hongjoong hissed, "You can't just spout off cryptic warnings like that and then walk away. Tell me what the hell is going on!"

Seonghwa's eyes darted between Hongjoong's determined features and his frankly iron grip on his wrist, looking more than a bit stricken. He leaned forward into Hongjoong's space and Hongjoong gasped, a headful of cedar and aftershave, and had to force himself not to retreat.

" _Listen_ ." Seonghwa whispered, the deep timbre of his voice pitched even lower in his attempt to keep his words between just them, "If I could tell you, I would. You wouldn't believe me even if I did. Just give me a few more weeks and I'll be out of your hair. I'll be the easiest landlord on the face of the planet. You'll hardly ever see me. Just _please,_ don't go in the basement. Okay?"

Frustrated, Hongjoong opened his mouth to argue, to tell him that this wasn't working for him anymore. That he needed more than that, he deserved a real answer-

"Is everything okay in here?"

Yeosang stood in the doorway to the kitchen, frowning. His eyes traveled over Hongjoong's angry stance, down to his hold on Seonghwa's arm, and up to Seonghwa's flustered face.

"Hongjoong..?"

Seonghwa brought his arm down sharply, startling Hongjoong and breaking his grip. He cleared his throat nervously,

"Please thank your parents for the meal on my behalf. I really must be going, I've lingered here too long."

Before either Hongjoong or Yeosang could respond, Seonghwa was out the back door. Hongjoong heard the faint sound of the gate banging shut and he knew he was gone. Yeosang strode across the room, grabbing Hongjoong firmly by the shoulders and turning him to face him.

"Are you okay, hyung? Did he hurt you?" He asked. Thin fingers grasped Hongjoong’s chin, turning his face this way and that, peering into Hongjoong's eyes like he thought Seonghwa might have given him a concussion or something.

"No, he didn't _hurt_ me." Hongjoong knocked Yeosang’s seeking hands away, annoyed. "He was just warning me off the basement. Again."

Hongjoong's eyes rested on the door Seonghwa had disappeared through.

"I think you're right, though. He's hiding something and I don't know if I want to be here when it all comes to a head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me!  
> twitter:[@VinnieKpop❤︎](https://twitter.com/vinniekpop)
> 
> CuriousCat:[@climbingvines❤︎](https://curiouscat.qa/climbingvines)


	4. spectral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning for light description of someone receiving stitches and a medical description of an injury obtained during a car accident and someone talking about performing an appendectomy. Let me know if I need to tag anything!
> 
> \- Vinnie

The little girl sat in her mother's lap, lip caught between her teeth and eyes screwed shut, tears working steady tracks down porcelain cheeks.

She shuddered, a hiccuping sob shaking her small frame as the needle and thread made another pass through the torn flesh of the heel of her hand.

There had been an accident in Hannam. A tourist, frustrated by the maze-like procession of one way streets that made up the area, had attempted to make a turn into oncoming traffic and in the process had caused an accident that took out a bus stop full of people. 

As one of the most respected trauma centers in the city, Seoul National University Hospital did not hesitate to accept a share of the injured into their emergency department. They were a little ways to the north from the site of the accident and it would have made more sense to take them all across the river, but this way the paramedics could take the less severely injured parties to their door while the bigger injuries were rushed down to Asan Medical Center. They had the driver of the vehicle that caused the accident down at Asan, thank the gods. Hongjoong didn't feel like dealing with the irate family members of injured parties today. For some reason people wanted to see the person who hurt the ones they loved suffer. Some kind of primal urge, he supposed.

One final tug of the needle and thread, and Hongjoong began to recount the steps of a two-handed square knot to himself as he set about securing the distal end of the suture. Over, under, around. Pull the strands in opposite directions so as not to damage the fragile edges of the skin. He tied the suture off and trimmed the excess thread.

"There you go, Seungmi-yah." He smiled up at the little girl from his perch on the low padded stool. "We're all done. You were _very_ brave."

She looked up at him with mournful eyes; big, owlish, and coated with unshed tears.

"Thank you, Dr. Kim." Her mother said, raising the child's hand to examine the stitches that crisscrossed her palm. Hongjoong let her look for a moment before he took the child’s hand back into his own and began to wrap it in a clean, sterile dressing. "She'll need to come back in a week to have them taken out. You can make an appointment here, or if you'd rather, you can make an appointment with your pediatrician or your family doctor. That would be appropriate, too."

The woman nodded and Hongjoong's eyes traveled to the laceration that marred her classically pretty face from her temple down to her cheek bone.

"Now that your daughter has been seen, will you let me treat your injury?" He asked, giving her a pointed look.

She shook her head, holding a mess of bloodied paper towels back up to her cheek.

"It's not even really bleeding anymore."

"That’s true, but you should let me clean it at least. Who knows what cut you out there? You could get an infection. And it probably needs to be sealed or it'll scar." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a tube of dermabond, "I won't even use the needle. It doesn't look that deep."

She shook her head again,

"In a minute. I'm going to go check on my husband." She stood, craning her neck to see into the private room where the trauma team had placed her husband, but the privacy curtains were drawn tight.

"Mrs. Moon, I'm sure he's asleep. They gave him a very strong sedative. His injuries are fairly severe, but we have to wait for our Orthopedic Specialist, Dr. Haruno, to get here for a consultation before we can do anything else for him." Hongjoong picked up her husband's chart and read the notes the Trauma Surgeon had signed off on, "Your husband is currently suffering from a tibial plateau fracture. Dr. Chang was worried about compartment syndrome so she opted to perform a fasciotomy to buy him some time before his surgery. We'll make sure you see him before he goes down to the O.R."

Mrs. Moon smiled at him,

"You're such a sweet boy.” She patted him on the arm. Hongjoong opened his mouth to thank her, but she kept talking. “But it’s very easy for me to see that you’re single. Otherwise you’d know none of that,” She gestured at the chart, “Makes any kind of difference to me. I don’t care if he knows that I’m in there with him or not, I just want to see him.” She stood from her own chair, paper towels still pressed firmly to her temple. “I'll just be a moment longer, really. Then you can patch me up. Can you keep an eye on Seungmi for a minute? I don't want her to see her father like this..."

Hongjoong sighed, but shooed her away, leaving himself alone with the little girl and his thoughts. 

_‘It’s very easy for me to see that you’re single’._

He tried to put himself in her place and shuddered. He may not have a spouse, a _partner_ , but he could imagine oh so clearly what it would be like if it was Yeosang in that bed, lying there unconscious and drugged up with a pretty high chance that he was going to lose a limb. In the grand scheme of things, Hongjoong didn’t think a cut on his face wouldn't be too high on his list of priorities, either.

Seungmi peered up at him with those owlish eyes. Hongjoong sighed, resigning himself to waiting for her mother to return.

"Want to see something cool?" He asked, reaching into the cabinet of his mobile medical tray to pull out a thick white napkin. It was one of those super absorbent materials that they would usually reserve to clean up all the less than pleasant liquid aspects that came along as part of working in the Emergency Room. Today, however, it would serve to distract a scared little girl.

Hongjoong had always been good with his hands. Long, quick, dexterous fingers always seeking something to occupy them. His mother had shown him how to fold paper when he was just a little kid. He was five or six when he folded his first paper crane, her hands gently guiding his. Today, he used the more easily manipulated paper towel to fold a rose.

He held the paper flower out for Seungmi's approval, and the little girl took it gingerly, mindful of the bulky bandages covering her dominant hand. She ran a finger across a folded petal gently, and then giggled.

"It's pretty." She smiled up at him, "It's pretty like you. Boys aren't supposed to be pretty, but you are.” She said in the blunt way of children, “And you can make pretty flowers, too." His cheeks flushed and she wrinkled her nose at him, "You're a weird doctor, aren't you?"

He laughed, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

"Thank you, Seungmi. You're very pretty, too. And yes, I guess I am kind of weird for a doctor."

\-------

Hongjoong met Yeosang outside the main entrance of the hospital, just like they did every time their schedules allowed, and they walked together to the bus stop.

"You look like shit, Sang-ah."

"Thanks. That's _exactly_ the first thing you should say to someone when you see them."

Hongjoong laughed, "Sorry. How was your day, sweetheart?"

Yeosang shoved him, causing him to stumble off the sidewalk momentarily and into the perfectly curated grass of the hospital lawn, earning himself a scowl from the grumpy looking caretaker on his expensive looking lawn mower. Hongjoong smiled and gave him a sheepish wave.

Yeosang rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck from side to side.

"Dr. Haruno let me scrub in on your tibial plateau fracture. The whole thing was a mess. Cracked _and_ compressed. There was no fixing it arthroscopically. Since he was already open from the fasciotomy we went full in, but Haruno took one look at it and called for the plates. There was no way he was piecing that mess back together."

Hongjoong grimaced, remember the bloody mess of a man who'd been wheeled into his E.R. that morning,

"Well, yeah. He took a midsize sedan to the knee. The guy drove right into him. He only just managed to knock his wife and kid out of the way. He probably saved their lives. At least he still has his leg, and now he can tell his kid he's bionic."

Yeosang snorted, then sighed.

"Orthopedics is hard work, man. And gruesome. All those saws and drills and _bones._ No wonder Jongho is so set on it, but it’s not for me. I can cut into tissue any day, but for some reason seeing exposed bone freaks me out. I learned a lot, but I'll be glad when this rotation is over. I'm exhausted, though, that was my longest surgery so far. Four hours. And I’m starving."

They both dropped onto the bus bench,

"Where are we meeting them for dinner?"

"San wants to go to Izakaya Kichinto. I figured I'd let the little shit have his way since he's working a double tonight."

Hongjoong snorted, "Yeah, okay. I could go for some Japanese."

The bus pulled up and they climbed on, taking a seat near the front.

Yeosang elbowed him in the side and Hongjoong looked up from his phone,

"Jongho says they're already there. What do you want so they can get the order in?"

Hongjoong chewed on his lip thoughtfully,

"Tell them to order a plate of avo unagi handrolls, the hokkai shio ramen, and the grilled saba."

Yeosang nodded, thumbs gliding across the screen. Hongjoong kept an eye out for their stop. He pulled the tether when it came up and the pair walked down a few doors until they reached the family style Japanese place the five of them were so fond of. The hostess led them to their usual table where Yunho, Jongho, and San were already eating.

"Thanks for waiting." Yeosang muttered, dropping into his chair and snatching a pair of chopsticks from the box on the table. Hongjoong sat next to him, immediately picking up his rice bowl and going for the saba.

"You're welcome, Yeosangie." San replied around a mouthful of noodles.

"Gross. You're such a baby. I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something." Yeosang glowered at him.

"I am a genius.” San replied confidently, “Did I tell you guys that Dr. Ling let me go solo on an emergency appendectomy the other day? It was super gross, the thing had _definitely_ burst and it smelled like _death._ It took me twenty minutes to clean out the area. But hey, I found like four watermelon seeds! At least I think they were watermelon seeds. They could have just been stones." San shrugged like he hadn't just been talking about minor surgery at the dinner table, swiping a piece of takoyaki off the platter and stuffing it into his face. He ignored the scandalized look from the young girl bringing them their bottle of saké.

Jongho nodded his thanks. He picked up the bottle to pour Hongjoong, Yeosang, and himself a drink. San frowned at him,

"Hey, what about me?" He asked.

Jongho frowned back,

"You have to work."

"It's a _double_ . I _deserve_ a drink."

"Whatever, dude. You volunteered to work a double. You don't get any sympathy from me." Jongho scoffed, throwing back his drink pointedly.

"What do you mean, he _volunteered_?" Yeosang said. He pointed his chopsticks at San threateningly, "And here I've been feeling sorry for you all night."

"Don't point your chopsticks at people, Yeosangie, it's rude." San smiled at him impishly, snatching up his cup of tea and sipping from it innocently.

\-------

Hongjoong had to get out of the house.

It was his day off and he'd been dead set on laying in bed all day catching up on his self-assigned reading list, but the energy in the house was all wrong. He felt like someone was looking over his shoulder constantly. He couldn't take it anymore.

He grabbed Byeol's leash from the hook by the door and whistled. The fluffy mass of dog bounded to the front door with enough enthusiasm for the both of them. Hongjoong smiled, clipping the leash to his collar. He locked the door behind him and set off towards Samcheong Park. Maples lined the sides of the street and the thick growth of new spring leaves smelled fresh and clean. The farther he got from the house the more he felt the tension slide from his shoulders. Byeol ran around his feet, ignoring each and every order to heel in favor or running up to small children, tail curled high over his back.

The park was shady and cool. Basketball courts and a baseball diamond situated near the road, a tennis court off in the distance, along with a deserted splash park; the weather was still a bit too cool for that. A pebbled path led off into a wooded area before the ground began to slope up and winding trails began to lead up into the mountains. Hongjoong let Byeol lead the way. The animal was clearly interested in where the path went. They walked for maybe ten minutes, Byeol’s tongue lolling and his tail wagging. As they entered a sort of clearing, however, Byeol suddenly froze. The fur along his back standing up in a clear ridge, hackles raised, and the dog snarled. Startled, Hongjoong looked around for any and all possible threats, feet rooted to the ground in panic.

In the shadowed space between two pine trees stood the semi-transparent, greyish form of a person. Hongjoong blinked but it was still there. He squinted, trying to force it into focus like a blurry screenshot, but nothing changed. 

As Hongjoong watched, the figure raised its arms and waved them above its head. Then it turned and pointed back the direction Hongjoong had come. Byeol growled again and Hongjoong realized that his dog could see it, too.

He could _see_ it!

With shaking hands, Hongjoong tore his phone from his hoodie pocket and snapped a picture of the space between the trees. When he lowered his phone, the figure was still there, but it was quickly fading from sight. It seemed to be fighting to remain visible, like it was fading fast like it didn't have the energy to stay any longer. But even as it dimmed it was still frantically pointing back the way Hongjoong had come, back towards the street, back towards the house... and then it was gone.

In less than three beats of his heart, Hongjoong felt like he was going to be sick. His head pounded and his stomach heaved. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, gasping for breath as his vision swam with spots and his ears rang. A smell like something was burning permeated his nostrils and he groaned. He groaned again when Byeol whined and licked at his face, almost knocking him over in the process.

He wrapped Byeol's leash more firmly around his hand and turned to leave the park. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't go home. Not yet, not when that _thing_ obviously wanted him to go back.

Instead, he grabbed a coffee from some place called TwentySix Cafe and sat at the tables outside. He gave Byeol a drink from the water he bought in the plastic bowl the barista had been kind enough to provide. Hongjoong stared at his phone on the table in front of him. He braced himself for the worst, even though he didn't know what the worst could possibly be. Slowly, he opened his camera roll and selected the most recent picture.

The tree line appeared on the screen before him, and directly where the figure had been, and a sphere of white light. Almost like a lens flare but... not. It was too perfect, and there seemed to be a ring of darker light around it, like a halo or an aura or something equally kitschy and weird and not at all what he believed in.

Honestly, with everything going on lately Hongjoong didn't know what he believed in anymore.

He'd spent the last few months thinking he was going crazy, that he was cracking under the pressure of work. That he was going to spend the rest of his life medicated; in and out of doctor’s offices as they assigned words to him like 'anxiety' and 'trigger' and 'delusions' that just didn't feel right.

Except for today...

Byeol had seen it, too.

Whatever 'it' was, Byeol had seen it.

That had to mean something, right?

\-------

Eventually, the sun started to set and Byeol started to whine. It was time to take his dog home and feed him. And it wasn't like he could never go home again. 

Eventually, he had to go home.

He let Byeol and himself in. After feeding the dog, he set about making himself a sandwich. His phone chimed in his pocket.

**From: Kang Yeosang**

**Sent: 20:37, March 21**

Do you have an extra set of work shoes? 

I had a patient spew all over mine. 

Second time this week. I'm out of spares.

  
  


Hongjoong grimaced before texting Yeosang back,

  
  


**From: Kim Hongjoong**

**Sent: 20:39, March 21**

Sure, I have a pair upstairs 

I'll bring them by just give me twenty minutes

  
  


He climbed the spiral staircase to the loft and went straight to his bedroom closet.

Pulling the door open, he dug around in the back corner for his extra pair of non-slip shoes. His fingers made contact with something long and metallic resting on the floorboards between the shoeboxes. Frowning, he pulled whatever it was out and promptly dropped it in shock.

" _No fucking way..._ " He breathed. He'd forgotten all about it after the confrontation with Seonghwa in the kitchen, but now he remembered. The sound of something falling they'd heard come from his bedroom a couple of weeks ago...when his mom had asked Hongjoong if he'd gotten a cat and Seonghwa had taken off for the basement like The Flash.

A large, ornate key sat on the floorboards of his closet; rusted and maybe a bit dusty. An exact replica of the key Seonghwa kept in his pocket and guarded so religiously.

Hongjoong looked up and saw a crack in the wall near the top shelf. It must have fallen from up there. He stood up on his tiptoes and carefully felt around in the crack. It was more like a small, crudely carved out compartment. His fingertips brushed against something papery, which he managed to catch hold off and pull out.

He was surprised to see that it was a worn photograph of what appeared to be two women in their twenties. Old. Very, very old. They stood close together, their faces fixed in the typical masks of indifference so common to the era when taking a picture took forever. They both wore plain jeogori and calf-length chima, hair pulled back demurely from their faces. The only thing that seemed weird or out of place about the duo was the large, ornate pendant that hung from what looked like the older woman's neck, obviously western in style. They stood on the front porch of a house. _His_ house, he realized belatedly. It was different, before the addition, before the remodel, but he just knew… it was the same house. Hongjoong turned the picture over and saw a thin, thready bit of handwriting,

_Song Sisters - Jinsoo and Hyosoo, 1902_

That wasn't much information to go on, save that the picture was _really freaking old._

His phone chimed again,

**From: Kang Yeosang**

**Sent: 20:45, March 21**

thanks I really appreciate it

love you <3

  
  


Hongjoong stared at the text for a second in bewilderment before he remembered why he'd been in his closet in the first place, then he quickly grabbed the shoe box from the closet floor.

He hesitated for just a moment before he picked up the key and shoved it in his pocket along with his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me!  
> twitter:[@VinnieKpop❤︎](https://twitter.com/vinniekpop)
> 
> CuriousCat:[@climbingvines❤︎](https://curiouscat.qa/climbingvines)


	5. menacing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typical Chapter Warning for description of a medical procedures/injuries & also for a patient with injuries that seem to imply child abuse! No actual abuse occurred but if you'd like to skip that part anyway you can skip from 'Eventful?' to 'I'm never having kids'. Also the appearance of the 'No Dogs Were Harmed In The Writing Of This Fic' tag :) Please stay safe!
> 
> Happy Spooking!
> 
> \- Vinnie

"How’d your morning go?"

Hongjoong shrugged, flipping between the collection of open tabs he’d managed to accumulate on the research lab computer. Yeosang dropped into the vacant seat next to him.

"It was good?” Hongjoong answered, distracted. “Eventful. We had a fifteen year old come into the E.R. He was vomiting, running a fever, tachycardic. Everything but the kitchen sink, symptom wise. We did an initial examination and his abdomen was distended with a palpable mass. I tried to talk to him, see if he might have any idea what caused it. He was pretty tight lipped about the whole thing, so I had him admitted and ordered some labs, an abdominal x-ray, and a CAT scan. Results came back and this kid has a bunch of cracked ribs and a busted bowel. His white blood cell count is through the roof and his blood acid levels are sky high, too. To me, it was obvious that someone had been beating on this kid-"

"Shit..." Yeosang swore, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth,

"-yeah, so I called social services since he came in alone and we couldn't get a hold of a parent. So the social worker shows up and tries to talk to him while we're getting him prepped for surgery and he  _ freaks,  _ but he's still not talking. He just keeps saying that no one is hurting him at home, but you would think this kid would be scared right? Getting ready to go in for a major surgery? Like, he would want his mom, right? So him being so adamant that everything was fine, but not telling us what was going on… we were all thinking the worst. We get him into the O.R. and I tell him that we're gonna put him out and I need him to count backwards from one hundred for me and right before he goes under the kid reaches out and grabs my hand and starts babbling about how he's been training to be a mixed martial arts fighter and begs me not to tell his mother because he'll be  _ grounded,  _ like being grounded it the real thing he has to be worried about right now and not his perforated bowel or the emergency surgery he's getting ready to undergo."

"Oh, shit." Yeosang snorted, "So what happened?"

"Well his mom finally shows up, and she looks  _ exhausted.  _ Single mother working three jobs, you know how it is." Yeosang nodded, because that was the life they'd lived as kids. "So we tell her what happened, that her baby let someone punch him in the gut until he popped, and she's  _ livid _ . And the poor boy, the minute he opens his eyes and sees her standing there he tries to lie and tell her he hurt himself falling off his  _ bike.  _ I thought she was gonna strangle him with his IV line. Anyway, I don't think he's going to be the next Chan Sungjung anytime soon."

Yeosang shook his head, "I'm never having kids. They do the stupidest shit."

Hongjoong chuckled, clicking over to the next page of links. "Sure, you're not."

"I'm not." Yeosang said firmly. He leaned forward and tapped the frames of Hongjoong’s reading glasses, "So why exactly are we spending our break time in the research lab?" He read the article pulled up the computer Hongjoong had commandeered, curious. “Is that a newspaper archive? Work related?"

Hongjoong shook his head, “Not work related, no.” From underneath the keyboard, he retrieved the old photograph. "I found this."

Yeosang picked it up gingerly. He stared at it for a second, 

"So? What the hell is it?"

"A picture, dumbass. That's my house. I'm trying to find out who they were..."

"Why? What makes you think they were anybody?"

"Obviously they were somebody. Everyone is somebody."

"Revision; what makes you think they were anyone important?"

Hongjoong shrugged again, 

"I just do."

A link finally caught his attention, the sister's names clearly displayed in the title. He clicked on it and was presented with a scan of an old newspaper headline.

"Holy fuck.." Yeosang swore.

**_Murder-Suicide in Seongbuk-dong_ **

_ June 12th, 1903 _

_ Miss Song Jinsoo, 26, resident of Seongbuk-dong, murdered her sister Miss Song Hyosoo, 24, also of Seongbuk-dong, in the early hours of the morning in what appears to be a murder-suicide. Song Jinsoo stabbed her sister through the heart while she slept before turning the knife on herself. Police theorize that the motivation behind the crime was jealousy. Song Hyosoo, who was recently engaged to one Mr. Fujio Hasegawa, had on that very same day announced her intentions to leave the home she shared with her older sister and move with her fiancé back to his home in Nagoya, Japan. _

_ Song Jinsoo, a spinster who neighbors described as 'withdrawn' and 'strange' supposedly murdered her younger sister to prevent her from leaving her behind as she started her new life as a respectable, happily married woman. _

_ Mr. Hasegawa, betrothed of the slain, was declared missing this afternoon. Police are concerned for his safety, therefore, they are offering a reward to anyone who might have any information as to his whereabouts. The Song sisters are survived by a younger brother, Song Namseon, 18, who refused to comment, but who police say was cleared as a suspect after an extensive interview process.... _

  
  


"Holy fuck! Someone died in your house?" Yeosang yelped.

Hongjoong only frowned, pulling the photo back towards him. He gazed at the impassive faces of the sisters, they stood close together almost shoulder to shoulder. They seemed like they cared for each other... the whole thing just made him really sad.

"Yeah, I guess they did."

"Dude, that's super creepy."

Hongjoong made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat before he clicked on the next link down. What appeared to be a wanted poster filled his screen

**_Wanted:_ **

_ Mr. Fujio Hasegawa, 35 years of age. _

_ Reward:  _ **_₩100,000_ ** _ for arrest or capture,  _ **_₩50,000_ ** _ for any useful information _

The picture was in black in white, but the description listed him as around 173cm. He had short, carefully coiffed hair and shrewd eyes. His profession was listed as a handyman and his complexion was noted to be 'tanned' from working outdoors. Unlike the sisters, his photograph depicted him with a slight tilt to corners of his mouth, but it didn't make him look warm or friendly. In fact, Hongjoong thought he looked downright sinister. Like a villain from an old silent film. Like he tied people to train tracks for fun in his spare time.

"I wonder if they ever found him..."

_ Vrrrrt _

Both young men jumped in their seats, laughing at each other as they checked the pagers attached to their belts.

"Emergency Room?" Yeosang asked,

"You, too? Must be something Ortho related." Hongjoong grimaced. He hated broken bones.

"Looks like we'll have to save the rest of this episode of  _ Unsolved Mysteries _ for later."

"Haha. Very Funny." Hongjoong logged out of the computer. He slid the photo of the Song Sisters back into his wallet carefully before swiftly following Yeosang to the emergency room.

\-------

Hongjoong found himself placing the heavy iron key into his pocket every time he left the house. Whether he was going to work, the store, out with friends. It didn't matter, he had to have the key with him.

At home he felt compelled to carry it with him from room to room. Often, he would find himself standing in his kitchen and he couldn't remember why he’d originally gone in there, but the key would weigh heavy in his palm.

Ever since he'd found the damn thing and learned what happened to the Song sisters, Hongjoong felt like his paranoia was running away with him. He'd all but convinced himself that the figure in that park was a figment of his imagination and that Byeol probably just saw a squirrel. He didn't  _ believe _ in ghosts. The weird light in the photo really was a lens flare and Dr. Kwon was right. He was just stressed; pushed to his limits. Suffering from a lack of sleep and overwork. 

But still...

The vibe in the house was all wrong. The air was heavy and thick. He would be doing something simple like reading a book or catching up with something on tv when suddenly the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up and Byeol would growl. He was sure, he  _ knew,  _ logically, that the dog was reacting to Hongjoong himself. That his weird tension was setting off Byeol’s instincts to protect his master. That didn't mean that it didn't freak Hongjoong out every single time it happened.

He'd thought more than once since finding the key that if he just went down to the basement that maybe he'd stop feeling like this all the time. He was being ridiculous, building up every little creak of the foundation settling and every chilly draft. Making it into something it wasn't. If he just went down there and proved to himself that it was nothing but an ordinary basement, all of this would end.

If Seonghwa.. If  _ Mr. Park  _ hadn't put the idea that there was something 'other' about the basement into his head, would he be reacting this way? Would he even feel like there was something to be afraid of to begin with?

Sometimes he thought about using the key- just so he could see for himself that it was a normal basement and there was  _ nothing _ down there.

But then he remembered Mr. Park..  _ Seonghwa  _ and how earnest his face had looked- _ 'Just give me a few more weeks...' _

A few more weeks.

He could do that.

Right?

\-------

Byeol was gone.

Hongjoong woke early in the morning, before the sun had even begun to rise, to prepare for his shift at the hospital. He noticed immediately that the dog wasn't in his usual place at the foot of the bed. He figured maybe he'd gone down to his own bed in the corner of the living room, but when Hongjoong stumbled into the room with the intent of rousing him and letting him out into the narrow backyard to do his business, he wasn't there either.

Byeol wasn't in the spare room or in the office.

Both the front door and the back door were locked, just as Hongjoong had left them the night before.

It was impossible for him to have left the house, but Hongjoong opened the back door and looked for him anyway,

"Byeol? Byeol, here baby!"

A weak whine came in response... from behind him.

Hongjoong whirled around, his eyes immediately landing on the basement door.

_ No... _

Another whine, and then a pained yelp and Hongjoong was stumbling back up the spiral staircase to get the rusted iron key from his nightstand where he'd left it. He had no idea how Byeol had gotten down there, but he was getting him  _ out _ .

Right now.

He rushed back down the steps, bare feet slipping on the worn metal and he was pretty certain he was going to fall and break his neck, but he managed to keep his balance. He skidded across the kitchen floor to the ancient wooden door and fitted the key into the lock with shaking hands. It grated and caught as it turned, but it did turn. The door swung open, revealing a dark stairwell with thin, warped wooden steps and peeling paint on the walls.

"Byeol?.."

The dog barked, the sound coming from somewhere deeper in the pitch black of the basement but he didn’t come when he was called. Maybe he was stuck behind something? Underneath something?

Hongjoong groped at the wall, locating a stiff light switch on the wall that illuminated a single bare bulb hanging from the sloped ceiling. With the added light he could see all the way to the bottom of the stairs, but still he couldn’t see Byeol.

He tried to call him again, and this time there was no response.

Panicked, Hongjoong stumbled down the stairs. At the bottom his feet hit uneven concrete and he paused,

"Baby, where are you? Byeol?" He carefully felt around the corner until he located another light switch. The lights stuttered and flickered to life. Hongjoong held his breath, palms sweaty and heart racing as they revealed...

Nothing.

Before him stood a typical unfinished basement like you'd find in any old home. It smelled of dust and damp, with rough concrete walls and exposed beams in the ceiling. Supports dotted the wide room that was furnished with nothing but a torn up old office chair, and a few empty glass bottles littered the floor.

He could see Byeol standing in the far corner, back stiff and hackles raised. Slowly, Hongjoong approached him.

"Hey, Byeol-ah.. how the hell did you get down here?" The dog jerked at the sound of his voice, rounding on him with a happy yip as he ran towards him. He jumped up on Hongjoong, licking at his face.

"Ugh." Hongjoong grunted as the dog's full weight hit him, knocking him back onto his ass. "I'm happy to see you too, baby. You scared me." He ran his hands over the dogs side and peered into his sweet face, checking him over for any signs of injury or distress and was surprised, but relieved, when he couldn't find anything wrong with him, except for the fact that his pure white coat was filthy. He fit his hands into the scruff of the dog's neck and pressed his forehead against his. He breathed in and out, willing his adrenaline down to a more manageable level now that he was sure Byeol was okay. 

It wasn’t until he finally regained his feet that he noticed the array of wooden shelves set against the wall Byeol had been fixated on. He glanced around the room and noticed that the old office chair seemed to be facing the shelves as well.

Hongjoong stepped closer to examine them, his feet scraping through something coarse and gritty on the floor. Hongjoong crouched down for a better look and noted that there was some kind of crystallized substance laid out on the floor in a thick line, surrounding the shelves in a semicircle. He took a pinch and sniffed it cautiously.

It appeared to be... salt?

His foot had disrupted the even shape, breaking the line. Frowning, he straightened up and moved closer to the shelves.

On the middle shelf sat the used nubs of two white candles, a few leftover lumps of burned resin, and in between them, a wooden box. Curious, he picked the box up, examining it closely. It was sealed shut with a solid layer of black wax, carved all over with strange symbols.

What the hell was this?

He didn’t even think about what he was doing, or why he was even doing it, as he dug his fingers into the seam. The wax crumbled away and eventually he was able to force the lid open. Inside was a thin sheet of cloth that looked to be covering up whatever else was stowed away inside. The cloth had a dark stain on it that he would recognize anywhere; blood.

He was so startled that he dropped the box. It hit the floor with a resounding clatter and it's contents scattered. An assortment of odd things; a few neatly bound strands of dark hair, some bent iron nails, and...

Amongst the mess a glint of silver caught his attention. It appeared to be a chain of some kind, partially covered by the bloodied scrap of fabric.

Hongjoong crouched down. He hesitated for barely a moment before he hooked a finger carefully through a loop of the chain and pulled.

The necklace slid out from underneath the bloodstained cloth and as the pendant came into view, Hongjoong gasped.

He'd seen it before.

It was the same necklace Song Jinsoo wore in the picture currently hidden away in his wallet upstairs.

\-------

Hongjoong sat in the resident’s lounge, running the chain of the necklace through his fingers.

After he'd found it, it was like the world came rushing back all at once. The sound of the house phone ringing upstairs had cut through the still of the basement and he'd suddenly remembered he was meant to be at work before too long.

It had taken him at least ten minutes to coax a grumpy Byeol up the rickety old stairs, and then he'd had to let him out for him to do his business while Hongjoong scrambled to shower and dress for work. The van for the doggy daycare arrived while he was still half-dressed and he had to give the flustered young man his request to give Byeol a bath while still in his bathrobe. In the end he'd almost missed his bus. Luckily the driver was used to him being there most mornings and when the woman saw him running up to the bus stop moments after she'd pulled away, she'd halted the bus just long enough for him to scramble on.

He’d shoved the necklace into his bag as he went out the door.

Now, he was on his first break after a grueling five hours in the Emergency Room on a Saturday morning. Two cases of alcohol poisoning and one idiot who'd fallen off a second story balcony trying to impress a girl.

The first thing he'd done, besides down a cup of coffee, was to pull out the necklace and the old photograph.

It was definitely the same necklace. Or at least a good reproduction of it.

It was silver, intricately wrought with a ton of knot work and beautiful stones in a swirling pattern. It looked incredibly modern, actually, he wouldn't be surprised if he saw a girl wearing something like it on a college campus tomorrow. The pendant weighed heavy in his palm, almost warm to the touch, most likely from his own body heat transferring into the metal.

He turned it over in his hands, looking for a stamp or an initial from the jeweler. Maybe if the company that made it was still open he could find out if it was an original or mass produced or something. Maybe he should have it appraised.

A ridiculous thought to have because the necklace technically belonged to his landlord. After all, it was Seonghwa's house. Maybe it was worth something. Maybe that was why he didn't want Hongjoong in the basement. Maybe Seonghwa was a jewel thief and he had the crown jewel of some long ago country that didn't exist any more locked up down there waiting for the highest bidder to come claim it in a few weeks.

"Hey, hyung." San dropped onto the couch next to him, smiling cheekily. "Just got out of your balcony-bro's surgery. Turns out he had a thoracic spine fracture to go along with his internal bleeding so Yeosang got to hang out. Since it was an emergency and everything he was just a watcher, but Dr. Ling let me close. Dr. Haruno is killer with his questions, Yeosang is so freaking lucky. I know he doesn't want to declare in that department, but damn. I'm glad I got the opportunity to see Haruno in action. When I was still doing rotations Dr. Cao was the teaching surgeon for Ortho and she was too nice. Haruno talked a lot about 'distraction injuries' and how they can keep doctor's from noticing a spinal injury right away. Like I knew that already, but it was interesting to hear his opinions about it as someone who's in General Surgery where I'm more concerned with blood and guts than bones."

He stole Hongjoong's coffee, taking a gulp. "What's that you've got there? You got a girlfriend I don't know about?"

Hongjoong made a face, turning the pendant over in his hands again. "I found it in my basement, the previous tenant must have left it behind. Just thought it was cool, I guess."

"Basement?” San made a face, “As in the creepy basement that your creepy landlord creepily forbade you from entering?"

"Byeol got stuck down there. I had no choice."

"How the hell did that happen?"

Hongjoong opened his mouth to say he had no idea and realized how crazy that sounded. The lie slipped out of his mouth before he could even really think about it, "He went through one of the windows. Pushed it open when I let him out into the backyard."

San hummed in acknowledgment, reaching out to take the necklace from Hongjoong. Hongjoong was reluctant to let it go, but he did, the chain sliding through his fingers as it went.

"It is pretty cool. You should let me have it. My sister’s birthday is next week and I totally spaced on getting her a present."

"It's not mine.” Hongjoong laughed. “I can't just give it to you. Technically it belongs to my landlord. I'm gonna put it back when I get home tonight, I feel bad for taking it. I don't even know  _ why _ I took it..."

San tossed him the necklace, standing and stretching his arms high above his head.

"Suit yourself, hyung."

\-------

His shift had ended twenty minutes ago, but Hongjoong was still at the hospital.

All he wanted after a fifteen hour shift was to go home and crawl into his bed. It was almost eight o’clock in the evening and the lounge was dead. Everyone was out on the floor, tending to their assignments and their patients. There was no one in the locker room, or in the showers, or in the on-call rooms. It was the beginning of the night for everyone else.

But he couldn't leave yet... because he couldn't find the damn necklace.

After his break had ended, he'd gone to his locker and placed it back in his bag for safe keeping. 

When he'd returned to clock out for the night it was gone. He'd spent the better part of the last half-hour crawling around near his locker looking for it underneath benches and then in the lounge looking between the couch cushions, but it was nowhere to be found.

Finally, he'd decided that someone must have picked it up and taken it to the lost and found down at the administrative offices. So, he'd gathered up his things and hopped in the elevator. 

The doors pinged open to a dimly lit hallway and he groaned, realizing that there probably wasn't anyone around anymore. He shuffled down the hall, eyeing the tinted office windows belonging to the hospital executives, his tired reflection glaring back at him. His footsteps were muffled on the crisp carpeting and the wooden accents on the wall almost made him forget he was in a hospital. He'd only been in the administrative part of the hospital once, and that was to sign papers when he'd accepted the job offer.

Hongjoong located the little sign that read Human Resources, walking up to the sliding glass window to peer inside. As he suspected, there didn't appear to be anyone there. Dim emergency lights just barely illuminated the interior so the security guards could see inside as they did their rounds, but other than that the department was dark and deserted. He spotted the lost and found box on the floor underneath the far counter, so he took his phone out and turned on the flashlight, hoping he could maybe see the glint of the chain. Maybe at least figure out if it was there or not, so he could pick it up in the morning. He moved the beam of light around at different angles for a moment before he sighed deeply and gave up. He switched off the app. The bright light faded and he was able to see his reflection in the glass window again.

As well as the reflection of someone standing directly behind him.

Hongjoong whirled around, hand clenching his phone tightly just in case he had to use it for a weapon.

But there was no one there. Just a shadowy corner and a ficus tree.

Spooked, he slowly slid his thumb over his phone screen, pulling up the emergency dialer just in case he needed to call for someone. Hospitals were big places, you never knew what kind of weirdos could be wandering around the halls late at night.

His eyes shot around the shadowed corner once more before he started backing away. He took one step, then two, then three; before he turned and walked quickly back towards the elevator.

As soon as his back was turned he heard them. A second set of footsteps muffled against the carpeting.

He walked faster.

He could see the elevator up ahead and he broke into a run. He slammed his fist against the down button and glared at the numbers as they ticked down towards his floor. The footsteps were still coming, their pace leisurely, not affected at all by Hongjoong’s obvious panic.

The doors opened and he slipped inside, pounding his hand against the 'close' button. Maybe it was cowardly of him, but he kept his eyes screwed shut; afraid to look back down the hall.

Just as the doors slid shut he heard a breathless laugh from right outside the elevator car. The sound sent a chill down his spine. He realized that the person, whoever it was, could simply look at the display and know what floor he was getting off at, so he chose the main floor right in front of the busiest part of the hospital.

He stood there, clutching the strap of his bag so hard that it dug into his palm painfully.

The door opened to the lobby. He moved over to the main desk, pretending to be looking for something in his bag.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the door that lead to the stairwell to see if anyone who looked like they didn't belong came down, but when the doors opened moments later the only people that came out were a gaggle of nurses and Jongho, and then a few minutes later, San, both of whom waved at him cheerfully as they carried on with their duties.

He frowned. Whoever it was either went another way or they were still lurking around up there somewhere. He flagged down a passing security guard and told him about the encounter. The man frowned and said he would send someone up there to look around while he went and checked the tapes. He offered to have someone walk Hongjoong to his bus stop, but he declined. The more he thought about it, the more he figured it was just a case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why would anyone be after him, specifically?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's that :D
> 
> If anyone is interested I also have an ot8 polyteez fic that also features yeonbin from txt that is an ongoing series, so maybe check that out if you're a moatiny or just really love txteez content as much as I do, lol [Grow Up, Go Faster](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740079).
> 
> \---  
> Come see me!  
> twitter:[@VinnieKpop❤︎](https://twitter.com/vinniekpop)
> 
> CuriousCat:[@climbingvines❤︎](https://curiouscat.qa/climbingvines)


	6. haunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it's been a minute sorry about that!!
> 
> I'm going to try to finish this up before too long! <3
> 
> slight tw for blood mention in this chapter but otherwise nothing too big. 
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> \- Vinnie

There were eyes and they were everywhere.

Hongjoong kept his own eyes forward as he walked down a hallway that seemed to go on forever. It took him a moment, a few steps, and few deep breaths to realize that it was the main corridor of his old high school. There, on his left, was the wide set of steps that lead down to the cafeteria, and on his right, another long hall leading into the bowels of the school. The lights were dark in that direction, just a vague flicker of emergency lighting at even intervals that left pools of inky darkness. Hongjoong felt like if he looked into them for too long, if he let his eyes adjust, he would see things he didn’t want to see. 

He walked down the main corridor, past the tall double doors leading to the gym, towards a wall of windows that showed a small courtyard brightly illuminated by the full moon outside. The hallway seemed too long, longer than he remembered. He felt like he’d been walking for a long time, but now as he approached the wall of windows he felt compelled to stop. 

The eyes were still watching. He could feel them, see them out of the corner of his eye if he didn’t actually look for them. Some of them blinked. And some of them did not.

The courtyard was small. An apricot tree with a stone bench underneath. In the early summer just before school let out for holiday, students used to make a game of picking the fruits and giving them to their crush. There were a limited number, of course, so getting one meant that your crush was really dedicated. Hongjoong used to get two or three a week until they were all picked and the tree lay bare, but he never figured out who was leaving them on his desk. 

It was April, but the smell of sickly sweet rotted fruit wafted from the cracked courtyard door, carelessly left open by whoever visited last.

Hongjoong moved towards the door and the eyes widened.

The school held its breath.

He stepped into the courtyard.

The apricot tree shuddered, but there was no wind. 

The smell of rotten fruit was strong and also maybe it smelled a little bit like blood. 

Syrupy sweet and tinged with iron. 

The eyes didn’t follow him here, but he knew that if he turned around and looked at the wall of windows behind him they would be there, watching him along with the things that hid in the shadows. They wouldn’t follow him here but they would watch, wait, and see what happened. 

The branches of the tree rattled and scraped against each other; a crackling whimper and groan like it was dying to beckon Hongjoong closer. 

Hongjoong shouldn’t go closer, but he would, he knew. He took a step closer, the pebbled garden path crunched underneath the sole of a pair of old converse he knew his mother had donated to a thrift store when he was fifteen. 

The eyes were watching and the shadows whispered, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

Something moved in the tree. High in the branches, obscured by leaves and gnarled wood. An apricot fell to the hard ground below and it burst open, the rotten flesh filled with worms and blood.

Blood.

Hongjoong watched the way the thick, red-black blood oozed from the split flesh and then he looked up, up, up and found more eyes.

And this time, the eyes smiled.

\---

“And then I woke up.”

Dr. Kwon steepled her fingers, peering at him over the rim of her stylish horn rim glasses. She was a beautiful woman. Very stylish. Once, in their getting to know each other phase of their therapist/patient relationship she’d confessed to him that she wanted to be a fashion designer but her brother was already the problem child who ran off to become an idol so she’d gone to university and studied neuropsychology instead. 

“Was high school stressful for you, Hongjoong-ssi?” She asked. 

“What Korean student isn’t stressed in high school?” Hongjoong shrugged. “I was busy, all the time. Yeosang and I, we wanted to get into medical school more than we wanted to eat, sleep, and breathe sometimes I think. Our grades were everything. We pushed each other and we held each other up. We limped across the finish line together. It was stressful, yeah.”

Dr. Kwon nodded, making a quick note on the pad in front of her. 

“Academically, of course, we all suffered to get where we are today. I’m talking about socially. Was high school an upsetting time in your life when you look back on, say, your friendships?”

“I didn’t have any friends, I was too busy. Just my brother.”

“But someone left you those apricots, didn’t they?” She was still writing. This was their eighth session and she’d long since stopped questioning him referring to Yeosang as his brother. He was glad for it, but sometimes he wondered what she was writing about him in her notes. 

“I didn’t care who gave them to me. It didn’t matter.”

“You didn’t care, but now at a time in your life where you’re experiencing what one might call an emotional upheaval, you dream about it. Maybe it’s something you regret? Not learning who was trying to get your attention when you were young.”

“You think I’m hallucinating because I missed out on high school romance?”

“Of course not, that would be ridiculous.” She laughed and Hongjoong wished he had even a slight clue as to what was so funny. “Hongjoong, what would you say if I told you that your stress level is causing you to subconsciously look back on what you’ve given up to get to where you are today?”

“I would say you’re focusing too much on the apricot tree and not enough on literally everything else.”

“The unease, the sense of foreboding, the sensation of being watched; Hongjoong-ssi, those things appear to me to be nothing more than your own mind embellishing a bad memory.” Dr. Kwon glanced at the tiny, inconspicuous digital clock on her desk. It was the only clock in her office and at first it had bothered Hongjoong, not knowing what time it was or how much time he had left in a session, but over time he’d learned to trust that Dr. Kwon was keeping time and that she wouldn’t keep him too long or let him be late getting back to his shift. 

“Our time is up, Dr. Kim.” She said, addressing him formally once again as she always did once they reached the end of a session. “Until we meet again next week, I want you to think about some of the things you gave up to get to where you are today. Sounds depressing, I know, but while you think about them I want you to think about whether or not they’re truly out of your reach. Is there something you could do to get each of those things back? Sometimes, as we grow older, we let our age dictate what we think we can and cannot have. Often, those limitations are nothing more than imaginary standards we’re applying to the world around us. We’re the only ones who can see them, therefore, we’re the only ones holding ourselves back. Do you understand, Dr. Kim?”

\---

When Hongjoong took stock of the things he had in his life, he considered himself to be fairly lucky. He had two devoted parents and a loving brother in every way but blood. He’d achieved every goal he set for himself academically, and up until recently had been well on his way to meeting his goals professionally as well. In his personal life, he’d set smaller goals for himself. Live alone. Take care of his dog. Cook dinner for himself more than once a week. Buy a bike. 

(he was still working on that last one)

Thinking about what Dr. Kwon had said, he had to wonder why he hadn’t set loftier goals for himself. 

He could say that he was busy, that his schedule was full to bursting and that his free time was limited, but the personal lives of his co-workers would laugh in his face. On their off days Yunho, Jongho, and San went out and did things. Yunho always had pictures from a recent hike to show off. Jongho ran a 10k. San even taught a weekday taekwondo class to elementary schoolers. 

And Yeosang had his little nurse. Once on the rare occasion that their day off lined up, Yeosang had asked him if it was okay to bring Wooyoung to dinner at Hongjoong’s place. The young man was delightful. He worked in labor and delivery where he was the only male nurse on the entire staff. The patients loved him, half of the gift baskets and flowers sent mentioned him specifically. His laugh was infectious, his eyes were kind, and his presence was strong and reassuring. And he always smelled a little bit like baby lotion from all the newborn cuddles he swiped in the nursery. 

It was clear to see Yeosang was besotted with him. Watching them together, Hongjoong couldn’t help the pang beneath his ribs. He’d never had a steady boyfriend, he’d only ever gone on dates. Dates and then more dates and then eventually Hongjoong stopped texting back. It was like no one held his interest. No one made him feel like sitting in a cluttered kitchen feeding each other clumps of overcooked noodles like they were sharing a gourmet meal over candlelight. 

Personal fulfilment didn’t depend on romance, or relationships. This was something Hongjoong knew. Was something he’d been telling himself since he was fifteen and that first apricot appeared on his deck in homeroom. Then, he was held back by fear. What if it was a trick? What if he asked around and ended up getting his ass kicked behind the gym? What if he asked around and found out who gave them to him, but they were just playing a prank? What if they weren’t playing a prank and they really did like him, but wanted to keep him hidden away in the shadows like a dirty little secret? Hongjoong portrayed a strong outward image, but he had a soft heart. He was empathetic, but he was also introspective. He convinced himself, as he gave the apricots to a girl in the year below him who blushed and stuttered her way through the interaction, that finding out who left the fruits behind wasn’t worth it. 

It wasn’t worth it. 

That had been his mantra for as long as he could remember. For as long as he’d been capable of looking at a man and thinking ‘he’s beautiful’, Hongjoong had been following that thought up with ‘but he’s not for me.’

The idea that his subconscious was trying to tell him that his social life was lacking romantically with creepy dreams of eyes watching him as he wandered through the deserted halls of his former high school was a bit much for Hongjoong, too dramatic even for him. But the alternative was that his medication was failing him and he’d soon need to up his dosage or else the hallucinations might start up again. 

If his options were lingering teenage angst vs impending psychological breakdown, well, maybe it wouldn’t hurt Hongjoong to go on a few dates. 

Maybe it was because the idea of boyfriends and dating was on his mind so much that when he glimpsed Seonghwa between the canned goods and the juice aisle at Lotte Mart that his immediate thought wasn’t  _ ‘Hey you, what was with the ominous warning last time I saw you it’s definitely been more than a few weeks?!’ _ and instead was  _ ‘his jawline is sharp enough to cut glass I wonder if he likes Japanese food’ _ .

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks as his face flushed. He reached out and mindlessly grabbed a packet of what felt like noodles off the shelf, pretending to read the label as he tried to will his ears to a shade that less resembled a traffic light. This-This  _ crush _ he was nursing for his landlord was probably one of the most fruitless moments of emotional weakness Hongjoong had ever experienced. Everything about the man was a whirling mass of anxiety and red flags. But there was just something about him that was just… captivating. Magnetic. He pulled Hongjoong in, knocked him off balance and made him feel like his equilibrium was all messed up even when moments before Hongjoong had been sure his feet were steady on solid ground. 

His fingers flexed around the packet in his hand, the plastic crinkling as he rotated in unseeing from the front to the nutrition facts on the back. He had no idea what he was looking at but the sodium content was enough to make the doctor side of him raise an eyebrow. He was just about to put it back on the shelf when he felt a presence at his back.

Panic crawled up his spine and he squeezed his eyes shut, prepared for the voice, a whisper, a shove,  _ something _ , but what he felt instead was a large hand settling just over the curve of his hip as a long arm clad in loose black material reached above and took a similar package from a higher shelf. Hongjoong turned dazed eyes up to stare at Seonghwa’s profile as he crowded Hongjoong against the shelf in the middle of Lotte Mart. 

He turned to Hongjoong, his hand still resting securely on his hip, and handed him the packet of- what was it? Hongjoong panicked, wanted to glance down at what he was holding, what Seonghwa was trying to give him, but he found that he couldn’t break eye contact with the taller man, couldn’t even swallow around his heart beating wildly in his throat. 

“This brand is better.” Seonghwa said, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth when Hongjoong continued to stare at him slack-jawed. “Of course, it would be even better if you learned to make it yourself.”

Hongjoong took the packet and looked down at them automatically. He was surprised to find he held two packages of instant  _ mulnaengmyeon  _ which was like… he didn’t even like cold noodles unless it felt like the surface of the sun outside. 

“I’m not a very good cook…” He mumbled, placing the package Seonghwa had selected for him into the basket hanging from his elbow and trying not to pout when the heat of Seonghwa’s palm on his hip retreated now that Seonghwa no longer needed to be in his personal space to reach the high shelf. 

“Left brain, right brain.” Seonghwa said and Hongjoong squinted up at him because what the hell did that mean?

“I bet you’re good at math and science. Stuff like that. Very left brain of you. Of course you wouldn’t be good at cooking. I bet you’re one of those people who feels like you have to follow the recipe exactly and then you get frustrated when it doesn’t turn out right.”

Hongjoong scoffed,

“Left Brain vs Right Brain is pop psychology, there’s nothing to prove it true that can’t be disproven just as easily. It’s just a theory.”

“Lots of things are just theories on the surface. Doesn’t make them any less true in reality.”

“How very right brain of you.” Hongjoong smiled. He turned away from Seonghwa and made his way down the aisle with the vague idea that since he was in Lotte Mart he’d get some fresh meat to restock his freezer. Seonghwa followed along behind him. He didn’t say anything, but he did occasionally check his shopping list on his phone and then reach out to toss something into his own, considerably fuller, shopping basket. 

It was comfortable, which Hongjoong found surprising. He expected there to be some of that awkward tension that surrounded their last few meetings, but Seonghwa seemed at ease. 

It was somewhere around the produce that it seemed like their paths would finally diverge, and they both paused when they turned in different directions. Hongjoong hesitated, trying to think of something to say. He reached into his basket and poked the package of instant  _ mulnaengmyeon _ .

“Thank you for-”

“I could come over some time.” Seonghwa blurted out. “And make it for you. From scratch… if you want.”

“ _ Yeah _ . Yeah, that would be-that would be nice.” Hongjoong stuttered out, nodding quickly. “I’ll- I can text you? I’ll let you know when I’m free. My schedule is kind of- It’s a mess.”

“Sure, okay. Sounds like a plan. It’s a date.” He smiled at Hongjoong one last time before he walked away, turning to aim one last cheerful wave over his shoulder.

“It’s a date…” Hongjoong repeated. He felt his cheeks flame to life again and resisted the urge to turn and bury his face in the nearest pile of cool, leafy produce. 

\---

“Dr. Kim!” Hongjoong paused, taking a quick look around the lobby to make sure he was the only ‘Dr. Kim’ present. The security guard jogged up to him and bowed quickly. 

“I apologize for the delay. We checked the cameras the night of the reported incident. I would appreciate it if you would accompany me to the surveillance room and review some timestamps for us?”

“Sure, absolutely. Just let me call down to the ER and let them know what’s going on.” He used the phone behind the greeter’s desk to ring the nurses station and let them know he was needed elsewhere, then he followed the guard whose name tag read ‘Lee’ to the elevator bank. 

They exited on a floor Hongjoong hadn’t visited before. One where the maintenance workers break room was located, where the head groundskeeper had his office, and apparently, where the surveillance room with it’s wall of monitors was stashed away. 

Lee offered him the only chair in front of the bank of monitors. There was a rip in the vinyl of one arm and the back support seemed loose, rattling dangerously on the frame when he settled onto the lumpy cushioning. 

“This is you?” Lee asked, clicking around for a moment on what appeared to be the central monitor, the one that controlled the entirety of the hospital’s extensive security system. The video took over a portion of the screen; black and white via a filter clearly intended for use after hours when the halls were dark and visibility was poor in the low light. 

“Yeah, that’s me.” Hongjoong confirmed. He watched himself get off the elevator and walk towards the Human Resources office. The camera switched angles, this one showing a view that was coming from inside the locked office. An overhead view that filmed the front desk area and the access window. The dim shape of Hongjoong cupping his hands to peer through the window played out on the screen, and then the bright light of Hongjoong’s phone as he tried to get a clearer look inside. 

“There!” Hongjoong jumped in surprise even though he knew it was coming. A figure, maybe a handful of centimeters taller than Hongjoong’s own 172. They appeared behind him as if they’d suddenly just… stood up. Appeared.  _ Existed  _ instantly out of nowhere instead of walking up behind him. It wasn’t  _ possible _ and yet-

“I see him.” Lee said grimly and Hongjoong almost sagged in relief.

“You do?” He breathed, watching himself whirl around on camera.

“Yeah, he’s right there-” Lee said but then stopped, “Where the fuck did he go? Uh- sorry for the language, Dr. Kim.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hongjoong waved him off. “He wasn’t there when I turned around. I saw him in the glass, but when I turned around he was gone. He was nowhere. It doesn’t make any sense.” He glared at the screen. “Whoever it was followed me down the hall, so they’ll have to show up on the other camera, right?”

“That’s the thing-” Lee said, as the video feed switched back to the camera above the elevator. Hongjoong watched himself turn from the window and walk back down the hall. Nervous, but eyes fixed firmly forward. He saw the moment he heard the footsteps start to play out on screen; the way his shoulders tensed and the way he started to walk faster and then faster and then break into a  _ run-  _ but there was no one behind him. No one there at all. 

“That doesn’t make any  _ sense _ !” Hongjoong snarled, frustrated. He hit the key on the keyboard that Lee had hit earlier, stopping the footage and then gasped. “ _ There _ !” He pointed at a spot on the screen behind his own running form. Just on the edge of the frame; a shape, distinctly human. Hongjoong pressed play again and the figure disappeared. 

Behind him Lee made a sound of confusion, reaching over his shoulder to press the same button again. Hongjoong’s heart froze in his chest. 

The figure appeared again, further up the hall this time. Closer to Hongjoong. Blurred, like someone in the background of a photo who had been moving at an impossible speed when the picture was snapped, but Hongjoong remembered the sounds of the footsteps that night. They hadn’t been rushed and the figure on screen, despite its blurriness appeared to be relaxed. If he squinted, it looked like they might even have had their hands in their pockets. 

Lee let the rest of the footage play out, stopping it right as the elevator doors were about to close. The image of Hongjoong stood framed in the fluorescent lighting of the elevator, eyes squeezed shut and one hand on the panel of buttons. Eyes shut tight in fear, but if Hongjoong would have opened them he would have been face to face with the figure, the shape of the man, blurred and all wrong as it stood right at the mouth of the elevator, watching Hongjoong as he panicked and fled. 

“It must have been a prank.” Lee said, but he sounded shaken and unsure. “A trick. They used...projectors or something. Maybe-maybe someone was making a video? For YouTube or something. Didn’t you say someone stole your necklace? It was all a joke, they wanted to lure you up there. I bet if you do some searching around you’ll find a ‘haunted hospital’ video with your face all over it.” As he spoke the security guard sounded more and more convinced. “It must have been one of the interns. Or a nurse. Custodian.  _ Someone _ . Someone set it up. I’ll find out who, don’t worry. We can’t have them scaring people like that. What if it had been a patient? Or if you’d gotten hurt?” Lee slapped a palm down on the back of the chair like that settled it. “I’ll report this to my supervisor immediately, Dr. Kim. Don’t you worry about it. And I’ll keep an eye out for your necklace, do you happen to have a picture?”

“Yes, I do.” Hongjoong pulled the old photograph from his wallet and showed it to the man.

“Family heirloom?” Lee asked, “A pity it was stolen.”

“It’s very valuable.” Hongjoong said, playing along. “I only had it out to get it cleaned. If someone swiped it, do you think it’s still in the hospital?”

“If it is, I’ll find it.” Lee promised. 

“Thank you, Mr. Lee.” Hongjoong stood up from the chair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Sangyeon. Lee Sangyeon.” 

“Well, thank you for looking into things, Sangyeon-ssi.” Hongjoong offered him a quick handshake and a tiny bow. “I need to get back before my supervisor has my own head.”

Hongjoong left the security room and took the elevator back to the main floor. 

He tried not to think too hard about the way the lights flickered just as the doors slid shut. 


End file.
